Wake Up, Your Dreams Are Dead
by conventgirlvampire
Summary: Her wires are crossed and she's not sure who she is anymore. All she knows is, she is no longer the girl she used to be, no longer the star she wants to be.


**Title:** Wake Up, Your Dreams Are Dead

**Chapter:** 1

**Characters/Pairings:** Rachel Berry, OFC

**Word Count:** 2,020

**Spoilers: **Up to Sectionals from season 1

**Summary:** Her wires are crossed and she's not sure who she is anymore. All she knows is, she is no longer the girl she used to be, no longer the star she wants to be.

**A/N:** Yes, a new one. I have updates to post on a few others too but I wanted to get this out there. It'll most likely be Faberry but I don't know yet. Also, argh but writing like this was fun.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Never did.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Black.

Red.

Black. Red.

Black. Red. Black. Red.

A never-ending see of black and red paraded before her eyes and she found herself swimming in it as she faded in and out of consciousness. There was nothing else for her, no other sight, no other sound or smell; no taste or touch that might tell her when or where she was. There was only black and red, black and red, black and red repeating endlessly before her until she could feel it pulsing inside of her, taking her, controlling her and shutting everything else out.

Wait, that could not be right, could it?

Was it?

Sometimes she felt as if there was more happening around her, soft whispers in her ears, harsh textures against her skin and always, always there was pain, pain now indistinguishable from the colours that threatened to drown her. She could not find her breath in them, could not find a way to block them out, pushed to her limit and beyond, never allowed respite from all that was and all that would happen to her.

It was...it was all that she knew now, those colours, black and red.

Black and red.

* * *

She faded in and out of consciousness easily now, the colours never fading but more of her senses awakening as they pushed her more and more. They hated that she did not acknowledge them, hated that she was virtually apathetic to her own captivity but they did not know, could not know that she was a captive in her own mind.

She wanted to laugh at that thought sometimes, laugh at the belief that they could be worse than what she put herself through every day, her own knowledge of her remaining life torturing her, tormenting her with its diminishing stature with each moment that passed. They could not know that the value they placed on her, what little of it there was, was more than she placed on herself or how she longed for both release from her bondage and the end.

They would never be able to understand it.

* * *

Sometimes she had visitors, people prodding and poking at her, looking the for weaknesses in her wiring that would expose her to them, weaknesses that would give them everything they wanted. She could not show vulnerability, could not let them see the things that would break her if touched, could not let them get to her insides to twist her and bend her until she was theirs.

Only, she failed to notice when they did.

Slowly, they began, picking apart the little things that made her who she was, taking her apart until the skin was completely gone. Only then did they go after the muscles, tearing her down, brick by brick until her insecurities had disappeared and all that was left protecting her heart was the fragile skeleton that was destined to bear the secrets of this life that she was now doomed to live.

They baited her, gave her the contact she longed for and broke her until she was a bloody mess, dripping onto the floor below, a robot with its parts exposed and its oil leaking out, waiting for the fire to start and consume everything that it was and ever would be. Only, there was no fire, not outside anyway. It burned through her soul and her body, destroying all that was good and kind and just..._her_. It killed anything and everything until only the body remained and everything else was gone.

Sometimes, they were kind to her, sometimes she was kind, her fingers touching her in a way that was almost caring, even as the knife was twisted deeper and deeper into her flesh. Those times, she almost went willingly with her torturer, almost gave in to everything and anything that she wanted, willing herself to hold back only because she knew deep down that she could not afford to surrender everything.

Sometimes...sometimes, she wished that they never came.

* * *

She did not know how long she had been there when she realised that they wires had been exposed and crossed in such a way that she was no longer herself. The passage of time no longer meant anything to her when she could no longer keep track of it. She only knew that it had been long enough that she had forgotten who she was before, who she defined herself as in what she liked to call Lima-time.

Music was what prompted this, music and the desire for silence. Never before had she wanted it to stop as much as she did then and it was a testament to her own waning willpower that she managed to stop herself from crying out for it to cease.

She could not bear the sound of it any longer, could not bear the constant reminder that she was not living her former life anymore, could not bear the thought that she was no longer her. It just...it hurt to hear it and she wanted it all to stop before she was driven to desperation by it.

When she came around, she made them stop but it was too late. Her throat was home to words that she could not speak, home to pleas for it to end, words that begged for a mercy she could not ask for. It was just...it hurt.

She was her only saving grace, even as she was death incarnate, all darkness and blood that fit in so well with the colours that surrounded her constantly. She was everything and she was nothing and she was the only thing that she could focus on for more than a few seconds.

She never spoke, only touched, tasted, absolved her of everything belonging to the light. Never the darkness, never her sins and her insanity. Those she was allowed to keep, was allowed to pile up and hide behind like a wall meant to block her in and protect her from the harshness of the light that would weigh her, measure her and find her wanting.

She would find this strange except, she was never far from believing that she deserved this, that she deserved the pain and the senselessness of the darkness around her. She could not find it strange, not in light of that.

She saw straight through her, past the wires and the framework and into her soul, pushing and pulling gently but never forcing her. Everything she gave up to her was given willingly, if reluctantly. She was falling to her and she did not care, could not care when everything was said and done. That was the way of her world and she could not really care less now, not when the promised reprieve was still so far away.

Never when it was so far away.

* * *

They did not leave her long once they started visiting, always there, hovering on the edges of her blackened vision, twisting, pulling, pushing, crossing her wires until they were satisfied with the end-product. Sometimes she wondered what they were looking for, what they were hoping to find, but most times she would try to ignore them even as they managed to rip the screams from her throat.

She was always there, waiting for something that they could never find, waiting for something that was never there to begin with. She never blinked at what they _would_ find, never missed a beat when the darkness seeped out a little more. She was just...there.

On days when she was not there, rare as they were, she would wonder where she was, what she was doing, why she was not present while they worked on her. She was lost to her now, lost to her whim and her frenzy, lost to her desires and hers in all but name. Her mind, her body, her everything...it was no longer her own to do with as she pleased and she was content with this because it meant that she was no longer responsible for what happened her.

Finally, she could rest, finally she could give in and just let everything happen as she stopped fighting the agony and just let it wash over her. That was all she needed, all she wanted and finally she was getting it.

* * *

"You're awake."

The voice was like honey and poison and sweet, sweet black relief, waiting to capture her and strip her bare, waiting to enshroud her soul in dark debauchery until she gave in. She had heard that voice so many times in the past few hours. Or was it days? Months? Years?

She could not tell how long it had been and she was sure that she never would. All she could hope for was the end, the final blow that would ensure that she would never return to the waking world and what a way would that be to leave; strung up like an animal for the slaughter, naked and defiled until she was no longer worthy of even the smallest of heavens.

Soft fingers trailed along her cheek, warm liquid smearing against the dirt-infused flesh in their wake. They were like ghosts kissing her skin where tears could not and if she had not long been broken then that would have done the job. She had had enough, had long since given up any hope of anything other than this perennial torment that she was forced to live in, not a sound escaping from her body, not after everything she had been through, everything she would have to go through.

She felt something, lips, maybe, brush against hers, moving down her jaw and then her neck until they reached her pulse point. A long time ago, she would have fought against it but now, she just relented and let it happen. This was nothing new, nothing that had not occurred before and she knew the routine by now, knew what was expected of her and what was the desired reaction.

"Despair. That's new. It used to be that I could feel the resistance radiating off of you but now there's only despair in your aura, on your lips, in your flesh. I wonder, did I miss the point at which everything changed or is this a new development?"

She wanted to reply, to say something, anything, that would get her out of this situation but she could not speak, would not speak. Silence was everything now, the only comfort she had and a poor one at that.

"Maybe," the voice continued as a hand reached up into her hair to pull her head back roughly, "maybe you're weaker than we thought, weaker than we want. Why do you think that is?"

She shook her head then, unable to keep herself from answering. That earned her a broken finger but the pain from that was nothing compared to the knife sliding idly across her stomach. She could feel the acid burn of whatever was on the blade and what little of her mind was present was slowly collapsing under it, pulling her with it until she was hovering just above the surface, waiting for that final push.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no." A tongue licking at the skin of her neck caught her attention and soon she was aware of the body pressed firmly against hers. "You don't get to sink under, not this time, amante. I want you alive and aware for this next phase. I'm sure you know how much I enjoy our little...trysts and I can promise that you'll enjoy this next part even more than I do."

The body, a woman's that she knew so, so well, stepped back and she allowed herself to breathe for a moment. Her presence was, always and forever, she thought, suffocating in a way that she could never break through. Still, this was a bit much and she found herself slipping under, despite herself, and the last words she heard barely registered in her thoughts.

"Take her down and clean her up. Then we'll be moving her to the I-Block cells for observation."

Black and red, joined now by blinding white.


End file.
